


What You Deserve

by donnarafiki



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Hurt!Draco, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Panic Attacks, Self-Esteem Issues, St Mungo's Hospital, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-07-20 16:18:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 12,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16140917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donnarafiki/pseuds/donnarafiki
Summary: When Draco jumps in front of a curse and gets badly hurt, everyone is reminded of how much the blonde git actually means to them while they're praying for him to wake up. But time keeps ticking by without any signs of improvement...





	1. Draco

**Author's Note:**

> Please note before reading that there are some descriptions of violence and blood and hospitals in here, so don't read if it triggers you. I try to update every sunday

Things had gone quite wrong quite fast, Draco had to admit. The evening had been normal to start with, as an owl swooped into his kitchen with a letter saying Harry was working late. Draco, being the secret sap that he was, had decided he would come over to the auror department and bring Harry his dinner so his sucky work hours would suck a bit less. 

That had been his first bad decision. Or maybe not a bad decision, but at the very least it was the first decision that had led to this entire mess. The second had been entering Harry’s office, after knocking hadn’t resulted in a response. The third was looking at the documents on his desk and reading _death eater-like_ _raids, Rowle_ and _infiltrating_. 

It was a miracle Harry had written down that much. Normally when he was being a reckless idiot bastard he just charged in head first and only bothered to find a quill once he was released from St. Mungo’s. 

Of course this time Harry wouldn’t be the one getting released from St. Mungo’s. Or at least it didn’t look like that yet. 

Harry had only been bound, not wounded as he got carried into Rowle’s cellar, just as Draco felt his mind slip away. To his great relief Harry wasn’t unconscious either. Something he heard as soon as Rowle and his gang left.

“Draco?” The voice was low and soft and drenched with worry. “Draco are you there? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” He grunted out, pressing his blood soaked hand a tad harder against the giant gap in his abdomen. He knew his wound was bad, but he wasn’t about to tell Harry that. “Just a bit tired, to be honest.”

“Don’t fall asleep Draco! You cannot fall asleep.” Harry still sounded just as worried, though relief and authority had mixed into his voice. “I have experience with these kinds of wounds. Odds are you’re not going to wake up again if you doze off. Ever.”

“And how come you have that bloody knowledge,  _ Potter _ ?” Draco snapped, trying to distract himself from the worrying amount of liquid on the cellar floor. “Certainly not because you regularly barge into unknown dangerous situations like these without  _ any _ thought for your own personal safety.” 

“You’re one to talk, you-” And suddenly Harry went silent, which was just as well for Draco. He was  _ really  _ tired, and sleeping would mean he didn’t have to worry about the blood anymore. He could just doze off, close his eyes, forget-, “You took a blasting curse for me. You’re the one who barged in here with no thought for your own personal safety to save my life.  _ You _ saved my life.”

“Just didn’t want to see your head explode. That always makes such a mess.” Draco muttered, unsure if Harry could hear him. He was quite beyond caring though, his mind ready to fly off at any moment. “And I know Rowle. I’ve seen him work… At raids. Know his style. Wasn’t gonna… Wasn’t gonna let him take you too.” 

“Keep talking Draco, please. You have to stay awake. Back-up is coming, but please Draco. Keep trying. Keep talking.” Harry’s voice was nothing short of desperate, but it barely registered with Draco. He was already so far away. “I can’t lose you babe. Please.”

“He took so many. Rowle. People. Kids. I was so useless.” Draco didn’t know at which point he’d started crying, he just knew that he was now. “I saw them. I watched. I still see them every night. So many lives. If any he should take mine. I should have… Should have done something. And now I did.” 

“ _ Draco _ .” There was pain in Harry’s voice, enough to feel the magic of it in the air. It kept Draco from slipping for another couple seconds. “Draco that wasn’t your fault. You were a child. Please understand that. And please speak.”

“I-, I’d deserve…” A light cough brought the heavy taste of blood into his mouth. Draco knew what that meant. “I deserve this. I love you Harry.”

“Don’t say that.” Tears had finally broken Harry’s voice. “Draco please don’t say that. Don't talk like this is the end.”

“I’m sorry.” His cramped hand fell away from his body as his vision went dark. “So sorry.”

The last things he heard as his mind slipped away were Harry’s pleas for him to stay. Then Draco was gone. 


	2. Harry

Harry tugged on his bonds, trying with all his might to get rid of them. “Draco! Draco wake up!”

“He’s with the healers now auror Potter. There is nothing you can do.” Auror Stevens put a calming hand on his shoulder and Harry suddenly didn’t have the energy left in him to shrug it off.  _ There’s nothing you can do _ . Not  _ he’ll be alright _ , but  _ there’s nothing you can do _ . Maybe there wouldn’t even be anything for the healers to do. He had seen the wound and the copious amounts of blood. That’s why he’d gone right back to hysterics, and why he was currently tied up  _ again _ . He just couldn’t believe how stupid he had been. After promising Draco so many times he would be more careful he had thrown caution into the wind again and stormed a building all alone. 

And now his stupidity might just kill the one man he lived for. 

“Harry. Harry it’s alright I’m here.” The ropes disappeared and where replaced by the strong arms of Ron Weasley. The man had quit the force three years back, but someone must have called him in after seeing how awful Harry was handling the situation. “Come here mate, it’s alright. Stressing won’t help Draco now, will it? But going down to the hospital and making sure he gets the best care might make a difference.” 

Harry nodded weakly as he allowed Ron to pull him up. He didn’t remember going to the hospital though, or talking to the healers or the many other people concerned about Draco’s fate. Everything was just a blur of long white hallways, beds with white sheets and the even paler body under them. Draco balanced on the brink of death, and every passing second ticked against his favour. That’s all Harry could hear during those first days. The slow rising and falling of Draco’s chest, and the ever louder ticking of clocks. 

Eventually Ron had to force him out of the room and into another bed, after sneaking Harry a sedative. No matter what was going to happen now, not sleeping for four days in a row wouldn’t help anyone. 

When Harry woke he was a bit calmer, and he already expected the denial when he asked if Draco was awake yet. He’d really fucked up this time. Maybe now there was no way back. And as he sat there, eyes going in and out of focus while he stared at Draco’s face, he finally understood something; After some choices you don’t deserve redemption. 

And he also understood better than ever before, that Draco had never made a choice like that. Only Harry had, if he never got the chance anymore to talk to Draco about his revelation. 

And with a grave voice a healer told him that that possibility was getting more likely by the minute. 

Draco wasn’t going to wake up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not spoiling anything, I'm just that reading the tags might bring you comfort....
> 
> Also kudos and comments are all still super welcome!


	3. Ron

Ron couldn't stand it. Couldn't stand watching his best friend break a little bit more with every second that passed without Draco waking up. And he couldn't stand watching Draco either, because after almost five years spent around the annoying git he couldn't even try to deny their friendship anymore. No one was a better chess partner than he was. No one could match Draco in skill, comradery, wit or stupid chess puns. 

He wasn’t punning now though. Maybe he wasn’t even fighting. Ron certainly couldn’t see anything happening in Draco’s body apart from some slow breathing. He had to be fighting though, alongside his many medications and the healers’ intricate spellwork. It was simply what Draco did. 

He’d fought him and Harry and the rest of Gryffindor house. He’d fought the order and the DA for a while. He’d even fought Voldemort himself in his own little ways on more occasions than one, and after that he’d fought for his redemption, harder than anyone had ever asked him to. 

Ron knew that was because Draco was his own worst judge, never allowing himself to slack of, never believing he was good enough. Ron just knew Draco wouldn't even think dying, or hopefully,  _ almost _ dying, to save Harry would be enough. It was one of the many reasons  _ why _ Draco had to wake up so badly. Ron desperately wanted to grab him by the shoulders and yell at him for being a very much good enough annoying idiot, and that just didn't work when said git was in a coma. 

But if history did indeed repeat itself, Draco had to be fighting that too. Ron just wasn’t sure if he could fight hard enough.

It hurt to be forced to think about that doubt, hurt to see the harsh reality of Harry's desperate hope and the bleak colour of Draco's skin. But he still stayed. It was what a friend ought to do. He stayed and kept Harry company when it was needed. Gave him a shoulder to cry on when everything hit him again all at once. And when Harry was in the arms of sleep or other friends, he took care of the other visitors. 

He made tea, scones, handed out tissues, blankets, clean clothing and made sure everyone who couldn't visit the hospital stayed up to date. Anything to keep his mind off the thing he was right in the middle of. He didn't even care that the emergency had basically turned him into his mum. He just cared about Draco waking up, even though he couldn't bear to actively think about it. 

He wasn't  _ that _ brave. 

“Ron?” Ron turned around in the middle of his ponderings as Luna’s oddly high pitched voice reached him. Luna, normally always the positive entity in every room, looked very much like a wilted flower, sitting hunched down with her arms around her knees on an old waiting room sofa. “He's going to be okay, right? I need to hear someone say that.” 

“Luna.” A sad smile took over Ron's face before he could turn it into a fatherly look of comfort. The one that always stopped little Rosie from crying when she was scared of the monsters under the bed. He sat next to Luna and pulled her into a firm hug. “Of course he's going to be okay.” He told her even though he didn't believe his own words anymore. But he couldn’t think of that. For now, he had to believe his own words for a bit if he didn’t want to fall apart. “I could braid your hair until Draco can do it again, if you’d like.” 

“I would like that.” Luna shot him a watery smile, making her look almost child like. And for a moment Ron imagined that she was. That they were both kids, and that Draco had just gotten chicken pox. Because sometimes he needed a break from the truth, no matter how adult, fatherly or Gryffindor he was. 

Because Draco wasn't going to wake up, and he just couldn't come to terms with that just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	4. Luna

After the war, Luna had found it difficult to keep seeing the world in a positive way. Graveyards full of teenagers and young parents refused to be seen with warm sunlight, and it felt disrespectful to those who had died to never visit those places. 

Thus, Luna, true to her name always reflecting the warm light of the sun, had started to dim. Her eyes didn’t shine like before, and some days it was struggle to even get out of bed. She didn’t recognise herself on days like that, when she looked in the mirror and saw someone too tired to fight off the nargles. It wasn’t her. It wasn’t right. 

But on one of those days, which usually didn’t improve until a good night sleep, some sunshine came back to her eyes. Sunshine bounded off the almost white blonde hairs of Draco Malfoy as he silently went to sit next to her on the lake shore. He’d grabbed her hand and rubbed it with a slight shameful blush on his cheeks. They just sat there in silence until behind the hills the sun started to go down. 

Then Draco spoke. 

“I am sorry for not helping you more than I did when you were in our basement. I am sorry for being too scared. Because of me Do-” Draco’s voice had stopped then, blocked by tears which he only managed to swallow down after several minutes. “People were hurt. They died. And I never-” 

Draco’s voice had stopped again, this time because he suddenly looked at their intertwined hands with disgust. He had pulled away, as if touching Luna would somehow taint her with his own cowardice. And when Luna watched him watch his own hand, his left arm, he looked so disgusted with himself she had feared he’d aim a blasting curse at himself right there and then. 

“Draco.” She’d reached out to him and pulled him into a hug. There was something about his visit, about seeing his state of mind that relativated everything for her. Because seeing Draco, telling him that things weren’t so bad made her realise that indeed they weren’t. They were alive, the world was healing, time was mending their wounds. Things were going to be alright. 

That had been the first time since the battle that Luna’d had a genuine smile on her face again. The first time she’d felt hope. 

There was nothing left of that feeling now. Not as every passing second made Draco’s chance to survive a tiny bit smaller. Not as she had to watch Harry completely fall apart at the bedside of his romantic soulmate. Not as all around her, her best friends fought their own emotions for days on end, trying to hide how much the fear hurt. Not as she had to watch the stoic, emotionless face of Narcissa Malfoy who could not phantom that her son’s life might soon be over. 

Draco had brought her hope and happiness and laughter and bad puns. His ever more likely death threatened to take that all away. And of course, odds were that she would find happiness again after his passing if she stuck around long enough to find it, but she wasn’t sure if she could do that. Last time had hurt so much, and last time she’d had her Draco. 

Now she would not. 

“Ron?” Her voice sounded oddly high pitched as it called out to Harry’s platonic soulmate on its own accord. “He's going to be okay, right? I need to hear someone say that.” 

“Luna.” Ron smiled at her with a funny look in his eyes before sitting down to hug her. “Of course he's going to be okay.” 

The words were whispered into a cloud of her own hair. Luna suspected Ron did that because he wouldn’t be able to tell the lie while looking her in the face. For now she didn’t care about that though. She’d lost her mother as a kid. This wouldn’t be her first time living in a fantasy. 


	5. Narcissa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to name the chapters after the POV I'm using, I hope that's handy? If not or if you have a better idea for chapter titles I'm open for suggestions!

Everything was moving past her. People, voices, words, food. She didn’t notice any of it. She was vaguely aware of the fact that there was _something_ going on around her, but she didn’t know what it was and she had never cared less about anything in her entire life.

Her entire mind, or rather her entire _being_ , soul heart and body included, was focussed on that one thing.

_Draco_.

Her son. The man fighting for his life who was still just a boy inside her head. A boy who had lived through way too much. The harsh upbringing of his father, which she should have stopped while she could. The war and the fear and trauma that came with it. Narcissa knew those things had hurt and broken him until there was barely any Draco left.

She vividly remembered the day she’d entered his room only to find several empty liquor bottles and a close to death son in there. He’d used his father’s favorite whiskey. Not because he wanted to end it, but because once he’d started he couldn’t find it in himself to stop. Everything had become too much to bear and he knew the alcohol could take it all away.

She’d known he would pull through only an hour after arriving at the hospital then though. Quite different from what was happening now. Though her perception of time was a bit off, she knew she must have been waiting for at least five days now. A long time anyway.

If it hadn’t been for Mrs. Weasley, she would not have eaten or drank anything during those days. It was very odd, being mothered over by a woman her own age who had despised everything Narcissa used to believe in. Especially because Narcissa was a mother herself, and because her own mother had never been so caring.

Most of that went past her as well though, as she sat there in the waiting room trapped in her haze hoping desperately for her son to wake up. She couldn’t lose him. She simply could not. Draco was her everything. She would kill for him, she would die for him, she would and had done horrible things just to keep him safe. And now she might just lose him, and not a single fiber in her being could cope with that idea.

No parents should ever have to see their child’s funeral.

And that was the thought that broke her. The image of Draco in a coffin. A headstone with a horribly quick death date on it. The idea of visiting a graveyard on his birthday instead of being able to hug the dramatic and wonderful son she loved more than life itself.

Her whole body shook, and she wasn’t even aware anymore of the noises she made or the tears falling from her eyes. Mere seconds after breaking down, two strong arms wrapped around her, grounding her and pressing her against a woman’s chest.

The Weasley matriarch had made it her job to care for her again.

“It’s okay to let it out, love. It’s okay to feel it.” Narcissa’s breathing was so erratic that she could barely make out the words, but the sentiment in them already felt nice. Like an anchor stopping her from completely spiraling out of control.

She had only broken down like this once before, after being forced to watch Fenrir enter her son’s room. Back then, her sister Bella had soon tired of her screeching and _imperio_ ’d her until the day after. She’d tended to Draco’s wounds as soon as she got out of her haze, though neither of them knew exactly how he’d gotten them. Draco’s occlumency shields had been strong enough to not be mentally present for any of it.

Her breakdown just got worse as she recalled that. Because it just wasn’t _fair_. Draco had fought _so hard_ to earn his place in the world, even though he’d been hurt and abused more than almost any of the people on the light side. He got spat on by people who had no idea about what he’d been through. People who didn’t even deserve to be in the same _room_ as him, left alone disrespect him like that.

“Mrs. Malfoy…” Narcissa clutched at something, though she had no idea what it was. “ _Narcissa_ , you have to take this. You have to calm down, love.”

Someone put a potions vial against her lips and she drank it because she was selfish and she just didn’t want to _feel_ anymore. She couldn’t bear it.

“That’s it, love. Just drink it. Just relax.” Someone was putting a hand through her hair but the potion made her fall asleep so fast she couldn’t see who it was. Probably Mrs. Weasley though. That woman was too caring for this world. “Go to sleep Narcissa. Forget about everything for a bit. I’m sure we’ll have good news for you once you wake up.”

_You better_. She mumbled in her own head. _Because I don’t want to wake up until you do_.

And then sleep took over, and she was gone.

 


	6. Draco

_Heavy._

That was the first word to come up. Everything was heavy, as if gravity had suddenly tripled. Or maybe he was being held down by something. It couldn’t be water because he didn’t feel wet or cold, but maybe warm sand…

_Buried_.

A second word sprang up. More panicked, more all consuming, more intense as he tried with all his might to move and feel. But it was no use. His muscles wouldn’t move. Come to think of it, he wasn’t even sure he had muscles or a body at all. All around him was only nothing, and the Heaviness came from something not quite physical. Maybe more exhaustion. Pure, mind-numbing exhaustion. He felt the sudden need to give into it, to sink down, let go, allow himself to follow the path calling for him.

_Death._

His heart rate shot up, even though he wasn’t sure he actually had a heart in that moment. At the very least the panic was back, full force as he clawed and clawed at-

Nothing. He had nothing to claw at. He didn’t even have anything to claw with. He was just a _something_ , a something which occasionally had thoughts in the shape of single words, and emotions in the shape of panic and exhaustion. But there was something more there. Something bigger that kept escaping him each time he tried to reach for it. The something was the reason why he feared the Heaviness. Feared Death.

He stayed like that for a while. Seconds, months, he did not know. The words kept coming but he couldn’t decipher if they increased or decreased. It probably didn’t matter. He still had nothing to cling to and the one thing he did know was that the Heaviness kept getting bigger. So much so it made him want to give up. He wanted to relax into it and just let go. Maybe he would soon. The Words didn’t scare him anymore, not even the one that said Death. At least Death didn’t sound so Heavy.

It just sounded like a better Nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for not posting for so long, real life was doing things and I just completely forgot about the existence of this fic. But I promise I'll finish!


	7. Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update but real life is hectic atm. i hope you guys enjoy!

“Dad, why is Uncle Harry crying?” Rose tugged on her dad’s sleeve, trying to get his attention. It was difficult, because her dad was very tall and she was not. All the grown ups were very focussed on the pretty pale man in the bed whose name sounded like Dragon. He reminded her of Snow White, only his hair wasn’t black.

“Because Uncle Harry wants Draco to wake up sweetie.” Her dad smiled a very sad smile at her as he bend down to pick her up. Rose wanted to squeal, she loved being just as high as her dad, but she didn’t. Sad people wouldn’t like squealing, she thought. “Draco was hurt so his body went into a very deep sleep, but now he won’t wake up anymore.”

“But dad,” Rose frowned, because this sounded more and more like Snow White. “Can’t Harry kiss him then? Like the prince in Snow White did?”

“I’m afraid it’s a bit more complicated than that, Rosie.” Her dad chuckled even though he clearly didn’t find it very funny, which confused her. On the other side of the room her Uncle Harry just started crying even harder. It looked so sad Rose’s chest started to hurt.

“Dad, can you put me down?” She asked as she eyed her crying godfather. Ron obliged. Rose didn’t want him or her mom or Uncle Harry to be sad, but as Uncle Harry was the most sad Uncle Harry needed the most help.

“Hey Rosie.” Uncle Harry lifted his face from his hands to make room for her on his lap. She climbed in and looked at the sleeping man in the bed, wondering if maybe he’d be ticklish. That always woke her up, even if she didn’t like it. But mostly she looked at him because she didn’t want to look at Uncle Harry. Not until she knew how to make him smile again. “It’s boring don’t you think? Hospitals?”

“No. I think they are sad. I think they clean so much here because they’re trying to wash the sadness away, but it never really works.” She sighed at the weird habits of adults. “Maybe they could hang up some pictures, see if that helps. Or they could buy a puppy, that would cheer people up.”

Uncle Harry laughed his _you’re cute because you got it wrong and you’re tiny_ laugh, which Rose hated. She wished people would just explain what she got wrong instead of laugh at her. But at least Harry looked a tiny bit less sad. “Uncle Harry, I think you should kiss your princess.”

Now Uncle Harry frowned, confused, but at least he wasn’t crying anymore. “What do you mean? I thought you were my princess?”

“Only when I dress up.” Rose rolled her eyes. Adults could be so slow sometimes. “I meant him.” She pointed at the pretty man in the bed. “He is your princess. Like Snow White, only then with blonde hair. Sleeping Beauty works too, your Dragon is very pretty.”

“He is, isn’t he?” And suddenly Uncle Harry was looking sad again as his eyes went back to his Princess. “But kissing him doesn’t work. Oddly enough I tried that already.”

“Oh.” Rose deflated a bit. She really thought it might have done the trick. “Maybe it will work if you really want it. If you give him a magical kiss.”

Uncle Harry opened his mouth to kindly call her silly again, but then he closed it. And then he frowned. “You know what, why the hell not?”

Rose was ecstatic. Uncle Harry was smiling again. She hopped off his lap so Uncle Harry could sit on the bed. He looked very serious and focussed, which was all wrong if you asked her. The most magical kisses were gentle and light. Like the ones her dad gave her mum after a long day of hard work in the kitchen.

“Magical kisses are not that serious, Uncle Harry.” She offered because her Uncle Harry was looking almost constipated and that wasn’t the way to go at all. “They’re just light _I love you_ ’s.”

“Oh.” Uncle Harry’s frown deepened, but then he relaxed and smiled a bit. “Yeah, I guess they are. Thank you Rosie.”

Rose beamed and turned around to share the moment with her dad, but the rest of the room was empty. It was just her, Uncle Harry and the Princess. So, she fiddled with her sleeve as she waited for her godfather to make a move. Harry gently brushed the hair out of the Princess’ face, just like a fairytale prince would do.

 _Good job Harry._ She thought inside her head, because she didn’t want to disturb them now. And then Uncle Harry leaned down, and kissed his Princess just like her mum kissed her dad only better. More magical. She almost squealed, it was so much like a fairy tale.

The only difference was that when Harry pulled back, his Princess still didn’t wake up.

 


	8. Draco

_A Spark_.

It was not so much a thought as it was something almost physical. Something he _could_ cling to, could claw at, could use to lift himself up. And lift himself up he did, at least until the Spark died out again.

But even with the Spark gone, he felt less Heavy. The fight in him that had almost died out was back again, not really full force but definitely more present.

If only that Spark would come back, then maybe he could keep fighting.

Sadly, it did not. And just like last time, he slowly sunk back into the Heaviness. But at least he was conscious enough to pray for the Spark’s return now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that this is so short! But I will try my best to make the next chapter extra long as compensation. It's already written for the most part, so hopefully the wait won't be too long. Anyhow, thank you so much for supporting this fic so far! I love you guys


	9. Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this chapter is not super long but it was sort of already written and I'd totally forgotten about that so I figured I would post it today anyway to make up for the short chapter before this. I hope you enjoy!

Harry couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t do it. It wasn’t _fair_. It wasn’t fair that Draco was dying, wasn’t fair that he kept having his hopes crushed, wasn’t fair that while fighting to keep everyone safe he’d forgotten about the one person who mattered the most.

He barely noticed it when Molly guided him out of the room, while Ron took Rose away before the little girl could witness his mental breakdown. And a breakdown it was. Harry simply did not know how to cope with the pain inside. It was like Sirius dying all over again but somehow now it was worse because the tiny spark of hope left in him amplified the pain. He almost wished Draco would just die so he could start grieving, at least he knew how to do that.

Only of course he would never ever wish for Draco’s death. He would rather sit next to his comatose lover for the rest of his life than put Draco’s body into the ground. Just like his parents, Remus, Tonks, Sirius, Hedwig, and as of last spring Mrs Figg.

“Harry dear, you need to breathe for me alright? Stop thinking, just breathe.” Molly’s words barely registered, Harry was completely out of it. Still, she kept talking to him until he finally calmed down enough to relax in her arms and fall asleep.

At least that’s what he figured happened when he woke up many many hours later, just past two AM with the Weasley matriarch asleep next to him in a family room of the hospital. He couldn’t recall much. Just some talking between him and little Rosie, and an idea… that probably didn’t work. But he didn’t remember trying it, so maybe…

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to do it again, even if it was for the second time.

When Harry entered Draco’s room after silently sneaking away from Mrs. Weasley, he was met by another mother. Draco’s mother, who was curled up next to her son, fast asleep. Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen her this stressed and tired before. She looked crushed and scared even in her sleep.

“I’m so sorry for not keeping him safe.” He muttered into the dark, his thoughts somehow coming out as words. His cheeks were wet again. He hadn’t even noticed he’d been crying. “If-, no, _when_ he wakes up, I promise I will never be this careless again. I will keep him safe, warm, loved. I promise. I’m so so sorry.”

Narcissa stayed silent, her breathing slow and steady. Harry took a deep breath, tore his gaze away from her, and winced. However much it hurt to look at Draco’s mother, looking at her son was way worse. His pale cheeks, firmly closed eyes, greyish skin tone, expressionless face…

Harry hated every last detail of it.

Still, he held his focus firmly on Draco’s face as he approached the bed, getting ready for another kiss. He wanted it to work so desperately, every fiber of his being thrummed with it. But still he halted just before their lips would brush. Something about this felt too final to do it without saying anything.

“You’re an _idiot_ , Draco, for following me into that place. You of all people should know what a bad idea that is.” Harry reached for Draco’s free hand and squeezed his fingers. “I know why you did it, though. I know you still feel like you need to prove yourself to be worthy of me. But that’s bullshit, Draco. If there has ever been an undeserving person in this relationship it’s me. I’m the messy one with the fucked up childhood and the terrible habits and bad manners. That’s me, all of that is me. Without you I would be so much worse off, and you so much better. But sod all that, I still want to be with you. I want to annoy you by getting up too early on sundays, drinking too much firewhiskey, bringing my work home, stealing your jumpers, nicking your hair ties. I want to wake up next to you every morning and see your messy bedhead. I want to fall asleep together again. I want to wait two hours before you’re finally ready to go out. I want all of it, Draco.” He took a deep shaky breath before adding his last words. “Please wake up.”

And then he leaned all the way down, and kissed Draco’s cold lips.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are much appreciated!


	10. Hermione

As the slightly overworked mother of two small children Hermione was no stranger to exhaustion. She’d learned to live with it over the years, catching a nap in the ministry elevators if she had to, living off espresso if there really was no other way.

Today had been one of those days, which meant she wouldn’t be able to sleep for another few hours even though she was done with work. However much she would have wanted to drop everything and stay at St. Mungo’s as soon as she heard of Draco’s accident, she simply couldn’t. She had two small kids to look after who didn’t fully understand what was going on, though little Rosie came close. She had a ministry department to run, legal affairs would be a mess without her.

That, and if she were to drop everything and sit at Draco’s bedside, there was no denying anymore that she could be well on her way to losing one of her best friends. She was a bit more mature than her husband and very much not ashamed to admit to how much she liked Draco. To this day she had yet to meet a better debate partner. What Draco was with chess to Ron, he was with discussions to her. Losing that, never having her usual lunch break with him anymore, the one thing to keep her sane in hectic weeks, would mean the end. For years she’d been stretching herself to the limit and then some and the blow of losing Draco…

She couldn’t cope with the thought. What would happen if she had to deal with the real thing? at the very least the legal department would collapse. She’d joked with Harry that she could make it illegal for Draco to die, but as the days ticked by, that almost became a solid option in her mind. It felt like it was the only thing she could do right now, even though it wouldn’t actually stop Draco from dying obviously.

So, with the jitters of the caffeine still in her system and both kids sound asleep, she took to wandering through the hospital hallways. There was life everywhere, mostly in the shape of anxious parents, restless patients and hurried nurses. Nowhere else she saw the desperation that permanently hung in the air around Draco’s room. It was a relief. A reminder that some people did come out of the hospital alive, and that if they just hoped for that hard enough, maybe Draco would leave that way too.

Somehow her feet brought her to the nursery ward, and her mind was flooded with memories of Hugo’s birth. The little guy had come nearly five weeks early, and much faster than Rose. The head had already been crowning when Draco had found her in the ministry bathroom in so much pain she hadn’t managed to send for help. She didn’t like to think of what would have happened if she hadn’t always been incredibly punctual on their lunch dates. Draco might not have gone looking for her, and Hugo might have died.

He hadn’t, though, because no matter his cold exterior, Draco was nothing if not loyal and concerned about his friends. She distinctly remembered waking up in the maternity ward with Ron in the other room looking after their newborn together with Harry, while Draco sat right next to her, knitting away like he was giving Molly a run for her money. Draco couldn’t knit when he was stressed, his hands shook too much, which meant Hermione didn’t even have to ask about her child. The tapping of Draco’s knitting needles told her enough, which was probably exactly why Draco had been doing it.

_“And you call yourself emancipated? You’ve been sleeping all day, leaving all the work to us men. How dare you.”_ He’d criticised with that characteristic twinkle in his eyes.

And suddenly there were tears running down her cheeks as she watched the babies behind the glass. Hugo would grow up without a godfather if Draco died. Hermione would have to go through life with inferior debate partners. Ron would have to start playing chess with his brothers again. And Harry…

Poor Harry. He’d lost so much already. This would be the millionth blow he didn’t deserve, and the hardest yet to handle. If it hadn’t been obvious before, it was obvious now: Draco was simply not allowed to die. Not now, not ever. She tore herself away from the maternity ward and marched back to Draco’s room. He was going to wake up, and he was going to wake up _now_. She was going to scold and lecture him until he would. This madness had to end.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting uni again next Monday so updates might be a bit irregular bc I forget everything haha, so if there is no update by Sunday evening just poke me in the comments bc the next chapter is already written
> 
> Comments and kudos are always welcome!


	11. Pansy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an update that's actually on Sunday evening like i said it would be! thanks to Saphira for reminding me<3

The sound of her own clicking heels in the hospital hallways irritated her so much she actually took them off and walked to Draco’s room barefoot. She was too late, way too late. She knew that. Running _Witch Weekly International_ , not just a magazine but also the headquarters where all the other national magazines reported back to, meant a busy career, but that didn’t make it any less unacceptable that it had taken her nearly two weeks to get to her best friend who might just be dying.

The thought alone made her shudder. It wasn’t a new fear for her. She’d been scared of that even since before she first caught him slashing open his own skin as some sort of sick punishment for choices that hadn’t even been his. The self-loathing he had dealt with before, during and especially after the war, had been of a magnitude that she was sometimes still surprised that Draco had survived it all. Dating Potter had helped a great deal. If that hadn’t happened, Pansy would have never taken on her current job because she would never leave her best friend in less than capable hands.

Or at least she thought she wouldn’t, until that horrifying moment when Narcissa’s swan Patronus had flown into her office. Apparently, Potter had let her down. Though that wasn’t actually fair of her. Pansy was the one who knew Draco better than anyone. If she hadn’t left him with Potter, she could have stopped him from going in, maybe. Could have stopped this stupid, reckless action.

But _what if’s_ and regrets would not get her anywhere. Her bare feet would get her somewhere, namely to Draco’s room, where she would finally have to come to terms with the inevitable. Draco was hurt, badly hurt. She knew that. The internal bleeding had been nothing short of excessive, he’d had over seventeen broken bones, and his heart had, at some point, stopped for a full two minutes. Even if he did wake up, the oxygen shortage might have left him with permanent damage anyway. Draco could wake up with memory loss, or deaf, or blind or without his voice…

The list was endless, and it was at the very least partially her fault. That realisation dawned on her even more as she arrived in the right wing and spotted the first Weasley curled up and asleep on an old waiting room couch. It was Fred, or George, she could never tell the two apart even now that one of them was missing an ear. It went to show her negligence that Draco had been surrounded by Weasleys but not by her.

A little further down the hall a door stood slightly ajar, showing a family room with Molly Weasley on a bed fast asleep. Just outside what Pansy believed to be Draco’s room, stood Granger, or Granger-Weasley nowadays. She stood frozen outside the door, staring through the glass window.

Pansy joined her, silently, and followed her gaze. The sight she was met with was peaceful yet heartbreaking. Narcissa was sleeping next to her son in a position that would surely give her a sore back. Her face was edged with lines of worry that sleep could not erase, and both hands were clutched around Draco’s left arm. On Draco’s other side, half on the bed, half on a chair, sat Harry Potter, his face so close to Draco it almost looked like they’d been kissing.

She could see even through the window that the man had been crying. She’d been upset with him before, with his carelessness and stupidity, but realised now that there was no need to get angry with Harry. No one would be more angry or disappointed in Harry than he himself. Losing Draco would crush him just as much as it would her.

And then the man himself, Draco Malfoy. His skin was no longer pale white, it was ashy grey. His cheeks were even hollower than they had been after Draco had been released from his Azkaban holding cell. He looked skinny to the bone despite the IV constantly pumping nutrients into his system through his right hand. Pansy could not see his left arm because his mother was hogging it, but his right arm showed scarily thin fingers.

“That’s odd.” She muttered as she continued to watch her best friend. His right hand, to be precise. “It almost looks like Draco is hugging Harry back.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Kudos and comments are most welcome<3
> 
> also on an extra note, if there is a character whose pov you miss or whose pov you want to see again, please tell me so in the comments! I can't guarantee anything, but maybe I'll be inspired by you!


	12. Teddy

Teddy hated this. His entire family was in St. Mungo’s, watching over his cousin Draco and he was the only one not there because he was stuck at school. _Draco would want you to continue your education, Mr Lupin. We can’t make exceptions, Mr. Lupin. We only grand personal leave when it considers close family, Mr. Lupin_.

The stupid excuses of the school board, who oversaw his case ever since McGonagall had been called out by the Magical United Nations for something important, were driving him up the wall. _Had_ driven him up the wall, but no longer. “ _I DON’T HAVE ANY CLOSE FAMILY BECAUSE THEY ALL FUCKING DIED!”_ He’d wanted to yell more and more with each word those disgusting old warts uttered.

But he hadn’t. He’d made his grandma proud by keeping his face impassive and politely excusing himself after they were all done speaking. She would probably be a little less proud of him for what he was doing now, namely running away from Hogwarts after curfew, but he honestly couldn’t care. If she had tried a little harder to get him excused from school while his cousin slash uncle slash best friend slash semi-dad was dying, then he would have cared. But neither she nor Harry had gotten him out. Both seemed of the opinion that seeing Draco in hospital would only upset him more, or something like that. Harry had been far from coherent in his letters, his gran had only written that he would be no use in the hospital and Ron could never really be trusted when it came to interpreting other people’s feelings and motivations.

But anyway, it didn’t matter what any of them thought. He was going to break out and see Draco and he was going to do so right now. Or at least right after he talked himself into getting on the broom he’d nicked from the shed near the quidditch dressing rooms. He wasn’t that much of a flyer, if he was being honest.

“ _Bordel Teddy! On a pas toute la putain de journée!”_ Teddy looked over his shoulder and nearly tripped over his own feet and the broom when he caught sight of Victoire’s glare. He might not speak french but that only made it more terrifying if he was being honest. Plus, he got the gist of it.

“Yes yes I’ll hurry up!” He whisper-yelled, though there was no one around to hear them. “I’m just not a very great flyer, okay? You know that. Just give me a minute.”

“I’ve given you a minute!” Victoire hissed back. “Seven minutes to be precise, and I honestly don’t fancy you wetting yourself and becoming a broomcicle before we’re five miles out. Now put those brooms back you wuss, we’re taking the bus.”

Teddy let out a sigh of relief and immediately felt guilty. Draco was fighting for his life and he wasn’t even man enough to get on a broom and fly to him? These days Draco was the first person to defend Hufflepuff, but Teddy felt like that was quite misplaced now. Not that he wasn’t proud of his house, but his house shouldn’t be proud of him. Not when he took the coward’s way out and trodded to the gates of the Hogwarts grounds to catch the bloody _bus_.

“Teddy, stop it.” Victoire halted, turned around and nearly made him collide with her. “I can see you fretting and beating yourself up about this and you shouldn’t. Whatever is going to happen to Draco… It will happen anyway. I wish there was something we could do, but there isn’t, so there’s no use in beating yourself up about taking a few minutes longer to go by bus. Besides, with your flying skills the bus will probably be quicker than going on a broom anyway. Not to mention warmer.”

“Fine.” Teddy sighed. Victoire was right. “I just… Draco loves flying. I thought he would like it if I flew to him.”

“He would probably like it even more if you came to him on a giant pink elephant or a candy cotton dragon, but that’s not realistic now, is it?” Victoire rolled her eyes and held out a hand. The sarcasm dripped from her words. It reminded Teddy of the fact that though she had only just turned twelve, she was nothing short of terrified of Draco dying, just like him. She was just better at hiding it. “Come on, Teddy, we haven’t got all day.”

“I know.” Teddy took her hand. “And I’m sorry. Now lets catch a bus.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were at the hospital in less than ten minutes. Though once the knight bus had been full of passengers in the early hours, now there were none. The latest extensions and extra safety check of the floo network had been quite effective. Lucky for them the bus driver asked no questions after Teddy morphed him into a stern looking older brother or young dad, depending on which way you looked.

The witch behind the front desk at St. Mungo’s did raise a suspicious eyebrow, but Victoire dragged Teddy away to the stairs before Teddy could stumble out an explanation.

“You’re his family, Ted.” Victoire hissed as she pushed him up the stairs. “You’re allowed to visit him. Not stop twitching and hurry up!”

“Yes yes.” He mumbled as he did indeed increase his pace. Draco was poorly. The adults didn’t want to tell him that but one of his friends had a mum who worked here as a healer so Teddy knew more than enough. The kind of magical coma Draco was in was very unstable and the odds of him waking up got worse with every minute. He couldn’t stand the thought of coming all this way just to have Draco die just before he arrived.

Or actually, he couldn’t stand the thought of Draco dying at all. Teddy already didn’t have his parents anymore, he couldn’t lose Draco too. The thought ripped a huge black hole into his chest threatening to drown him in a never ending pool of loneliness.

Draco had been the one to organise his best birthday parties and take him on the most absurd holidays. Getting spoiled and manicured in Paris, climbing in the Andes mountains, visiting the north pole to see the northern light, or _aurora borealis_ as Draco always called it. And Draco was the one to help him with all his classes, going on long and entertaining rants about goblin wars, myths behind the constellations and the beauty of a well brewn potion.

But Draco was in no state to rant now, Teddy saw as they quietly went to stand besides aunt Hermione and Pansy. The women noticed them, but stayed quiet. All four were too absorbed by the sight behind the glass. Seeing Draco lie there, between Harry and Narcissa, suddenly reminded Teddy of how young he was. Only thirty one. A lot compared to fourteen, but nothing in the grand scheme of things. Despite the ashy grey look of his skin Draco looked so very young. The sight reminded him of the few pictures he still had of his mother. Of what he imagined she’d looked like after her death.

His eyesight got blurry, and aunt Hermione wrapped a strong arm around him when the first sob came past his lips. He tried to blink the tears away but it was no use. After a while he gave up and buried his face in Hermione’s side, letting his sobs run free. That was why he missed the thing that caught Victoire’s attention.

“Did Draco’s hand just move?”

“He’s twitching.” Pansy replied, her voice hoarse and soft. “He’s been doing that for two hours now.”

Hope briefly flared up in Teddy’s chest. Moving was good, wasn’t it? Moving meant waking up. Or at least that’s what he thought it meant, until Pansy sighed deeply and spoke again. Teddy had never heard a voice so broken. “Usually that means the beginning of the end.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could say I'm sorry, but I'm really not..... 
> 
> POV Ideas are still much welcomed, as are kudos and comments!


	13. Ginny

Luna hadn’t been home ever since Malfoy’s accident. Ginny understood that Draco was her wife’s best friend, but that didn’t mean Ginny didn’t miss her. Especially when she came home to an empty house yet again. Of course, she could go to the hospital to visit Luna, but with her current training schedule, she needed a proper shower and every hour of sleep she could get.

Plus, Malfoy had always been more Luna’s friend. The one to keep her wife company when Ginny was gone on a training camp or playing a long match. Draco filled that gap, which meant they didn’t run into each other all that often and Ginny was quite fine with that. She didn’t dislike him, but she didn’t understand why everyone was such a great fan of him either. Even Ron had turned around and openly liked Malfoy now.

But tonight felt different. She couldn’t fall asleep, not even after drinking her mom’s _go to sleep_ tea. Something told her that she needed to be at the hospital tonight. As soon as she realised that, she slipped out of bed and quickly got dressed before Flooing to St Mungo’s. She knew the way like she knew her broom. She was friends with Harry after all.

When she arrived at the right ward, she was surprised to find not just Hermione and Parkinson there, but Teddy and Victoire as well. And Teddy was silently sobbing into Hermione’s sweater.

Worried, she quickened her pace and passed the sleeping form of her wife on the waiting room couch in favour of seeing what was going on. So far she’d never really thought all that much about Malfoy’s condition. Weeds were hard to kill, he’d be alright soon enough. But in the hectics of her training schedule she’d lost track of time, and with a shock, she realised Malfoy had been in a coma for nearly three weeks now. That, together with the crying and the presence of the ever busy businesswoman Pansy Parkinson, did not bode well.

“How’s he doing?” She asked quietly as she took her place behind the glass, taking a look at Draco. He looked bad, with grey skin and protruding bones. But there was something about him that… she couldn’t place. But it was different from the last time she’d seen him, almost a week ago now. She barely noticed the exhausted form of Harry or Narcissa who were also on the bed as she continued to study Malfoy.

“He’s twitching,” Parkinson answered. It was the first civil word exchanged between them in a very long time. Ginny did not usually like journalists, and Parkinson was no exception. “Which is not exactly a good sign.”

“What do you mean not a good sign?” Ginny frowned and finally tore her gaze away from Malfoy in favour of looking at Parkinson. “It’s a bad sign when someone is dying because the control over their body is slipping. It’s a bad sign when someone is epileptic because they might get an attack. But it’s not a bad sign in magical comas. It means nerve signals are travelling through the body again, that’s not bad at all. A teammate of mine once got a Bludger to the head, and she started twitching too a few hours before waking up. Though granted, she was only out for two days.”

“It’s not a bad sign?” Teddy and Parkinson asked in unison. They were competing for the title of pulling the most shocked, surprised and carefully hopeful face. Ginny almost laughed at the sight, but the pain in her heart stopped her. The hope in the faces of the three people next to her was so pure and so painfully desperate she couldn’t possibly laugh anymore when she saw that.

For her, getting to know Malfoy had always been a bit of a sore point. Though she knew she and Harry would have never worked out, she couldn’t help but look at him sometimes and see what might have been. A normal family. No Howlers calling her a pervert or inviting her to a threesome every time someone caught her and Luna snogging. Being out in a society that wasn’t fully ready for it yet was a constant battle, and sometimes she got tired of fighting in it. Hadn’t they all fought enough already?

But now that she was faced with Teddy, Hermione and Parkinson, looking at her like the sun would shine again and life would be full and good once more at the mere possibility of Draco waking up, she couldn’t help but regret never getting to know Luna’s best friend and Harry’s lover. And now she might never get the chance again.

“Not as far as I know.” Ginny shrugged, trying not to put too much confidence in her words. She didn’t want to crush anyone’s hopes. “But I’m no expert, you’ll have to ask a nurse.”

“Then I’ll do just that,” Hermione said briskly, and she walked off to a nurse’s office, leaving Ginny with Parkinson, Teddy and Victoire.

She raised an eyebrow at the latter two, as a way to avoid looking at Malfoy again. He would look like regret to her now, and she hated regret. “Aren’t you two supposed to be in school?”

“Fuck school,” Victoire muttered, sounding both fierce and tired. She was holding Teddy’s hand, Ginny noticed when she looked down. And when Teddy let out another sob, she patiently pulled him into her arms. “Family is more important.”

“Wise words.” Parkinson nodded and sniffed. She was fighting her tears, holding one hand close to her face while her eyes stared at her best friend. She looked incredibly lonely there, in her business suit and bare feet, her best friend a few feet away behind the glass, yet also so far she might never reach him again.

Impulsively, Ginny stepped closer and put an arm around Parkinson. “He’ll be okay, you know? Pests are hard to kill.”

Parkinson wasn’t even offended by the mild insult to her friend. She just leaned into her touch and sobbed on her shoulder. It would leave makeup stains, but Ginny didn’t care. She just hugged the other woman back and prayed to every god she knew that Malfoy would wake up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was an alright update, I'm not 100% sure about it. Comments and kudos are very much appreciated<3
> 
> I'm not sure if I can manage an update next week, I have a fest deadline coming up and the next part isn't finished yet. and afetr that I'm going to paris so I can promise an update within 1-2.5 weeks, but it will probably only be 1 update. After that I am free for a week though, so hopefully I'll be back on track then!


	14. Kingsley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait, after finishing my consent fest fic i was sorta drained from writing energy for a while, and i struggled to find a proper ending for this chapter. i hope you guys like this anyway<3

Kingsley should be asleep. He knew that, his husband knew that, every single person who laid eyes on him knew that. But he simply didn’t care. His authority, which always shut people up with a single glance, usually annoyed him, but today he was grateful for it. Or tonight, actually, given that he’d left the office way past twelve again.

His days were long, filled with meetings, and important memos and documents to sign at every hour of the day. But last week had been extra crazy. An unexpected crime wave, an emergency Magical United Nations meeting and the strike of the new, now human, jailers in Azkaban had eaten away every second of his days. So much so that the knowledge of Draco Malfoy being in the hospital, fighting for his life, had nearly slipped his mind.

He wouldn’t say he was close with the man, but Malfoy’s boyfriend was by far his best Auror he had, and the things Malfoy had done for queer rights in the magical world had left him in awe. It had been Malfoy who’d dug out and dusted off the many accounts of same-sex relationships in the old, really old, days. Relationships between ancient pureblood families still in the Wizengamot today. A brilliant move. No proper pure-blood would ever speak evil of their ancestors, and with the powerful voice of the old pureblood families behind their cause, same-sex marriage had been approved as a new right within a year.

Though Kingsley knew Malfoy always claimed to hate politics, he was damn good at it and spent more time on legislation than he did on his potions business.

All of those things were reasons Kingsley was striding through the halls of St Mungo’s right now, praying Malfoy would be alright. Things weren’t looking promising if the man had been in a coma for three weeks now, but stranger things had happened. Especially around Harry Potter. There might still be hope left.

“Minister!” Kingsley looked up to find Hermione Granger walking briskly towards him, looking unnaturally awake for someone with her workload on this hour. “What are you doing here? Is there something amiss at the ministry?”

“As far as I am aware, our biggest problem is right here,” he replied as he came to a standstill in front of a large glass window. There were already three people standing there, an Indonesian woman in business attire and two young children. He joined them, looking through the window to get a proper view of Draco Malfoy’s hospital room. The place was quite crowded. Harry, who looked like he’d just woken up, was getting ushered to a chair by a nurse. Narcissa Malfoy stood next to her son, looking intimidating despite her hair sticking up on one side. A Healer was checking Malfoy’s vital signs, though Kingsley couldn’t decipher the outcome of the spells. “How is he holding up?”

“We don’t know for sure. He’s twitching, but we don’t know if that’s a good sign or not. The Healer has only been in there for a short while.” Hermione spoke like she was listing the financial details of her Ministry department instead of speaking about the fate of one of her best friends. That she found it necessary to detach herself from the situation like that, only made it more clear how serious it was.

“I would appreciate it if you kept me updated, Hermione,” Kingsley said after fighting an unexpected wave of emotions. Hermione looked surprised by the use of her given name. “As friends, I mean. Not as Minister or colleague. Without him we… Kevin and I would not be married. After everything Mr Malfoy has done for our world, he does not deserve this fate.”

“You are quite right, Minister.” Both he and Hermione turned their heads towards the nurse who had just exited Malfoy's room. “Which is why I am quite happy to share with you that we have just detected brain activity. That does not mean Mr Malfoy is waking up, but it does mean that the oxygen cut off did not damage his nerve cells. If he wakes up, odds are he will make a full recovery.”

“But you still don't know if he'll wake up,” the Indonesian woman cut in before Kingsley could even think of the words.

“No.” To her credit, the nurse looked nothing short of gutted when she had to admit that. “We have very little experience with patients who remain in a coma for so long, so it's hard to predict anything. But his main Healer thinks that discovering solid evidence for brain activity like this is, at the very least, not a bad thing. There is still hope, Mrs Parkinson.”

_Parkinson_ , that was her name. The only business person who had supported his bill to raise the minimum wage. There had been no need for her to put up that fight - all her employees already had a high salary, and it got her some powerful enemies. Rubbing it in the faces of her rivals that her business was turning a profit without going over the backs of those who worked for her had been reward enough for her though.

“When Mr Potter is around, there is always a reason for hope, Miss Parkinson,” Kingsley said, hoping that his words would offer the woman some comfort. But instead, she whipped her head around and glared at him, eyes ablaze with fury.

“The entire reason he is in this mess is because Harry _fucking_ Potter doesn’t know how to follow a _bloody_ protocol. For _years_ I’ve watched my best friend suffer under his stupidity and impulsiveness. He’s nice to the world, but he’s terrible to his lover, and I am left to pick up the goddamn pieces every time. And if there are no pieces left to pick up this time, I swear to Circe’s pierced clit that you’ll find your precious saviour flayed alive and pickled on your doorstep, _Minister_.”

And with that, she turned away from him and marched into Draco Malfoy’s room. Kingsley was left baffled. No one had ever talked to him like that, even if it hadn’t been about him. But then again, no one would send the partner of a coma patient away from their lover, yet that was exactly what Miss Parkinson did, as he could see through the window.

Seconds later the door opened again, and Harry came out. He looked broken. A blood vessel in his eye had burst, probably from crying. He held it together though as he nodded at Kinsley and greeted his godson and the other child. Then the Weasley matriarch materialised out of nowhere and ushered the three of them away, hopefully towards something resembling a bed.

“I better follow them, Minister.” Hermione had been so quiet after Miss Parkinson’s short speech, Kingsley had almost forgotten she was there. She suddenly looked so much younger than usual. “Can’t expect Mrs Weasley to look after everything on her own.”

“Of course.” Kingsley nodded at her, still a bit shaken. “Make sure you look after yourself too, Hermione.”

“Will do, Minis-, eh, Kingsley.” She smiled at him, looking somewhat too tired to be embarrassed about her jumbled words. “Make sure you do the same, sir. You look like you could use a good night’s sleep.”

“I won’t deny that.” Kingsley sighed and watched Hermione walk away. She was special, that one. Relentlessly hard working, like only the really good politicians were. He turned back to the window, looking at the sick man in bed. Draco Malfoy was hard working too. The special kind of hard working. It had taken him a while to see it, see past his teenage mistakes, see his true remorse.

But now he had, and it was with great difficulty that he tore himself away from the hospital ward and found his way to bed. He’d much rather stick around and _do_ something, but there was nothing to be done except sit tight and wait.

It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys liked that! also yes i named kingsley's husband after Kevin, the husband of Captain Holt from brooklyn 99. i hope some of you could appreciate that lol. Thank you for reading so far<3


	15. Draco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some less-than-happy thoughts in this one, but i kinda feel like revealing that now would take out the punch? so I put it in the notes at the bottom, if you wanna know you can scroll down before reading

Draco was fighting, struggling, doing _something_ , though he wasn’t really sure what that something was. His head was spinning, thoughts buzzing, even though he had zero sensory input. For all he knew he no longer had a head. It was confusing, but above all else, it was frustrating because he knew there was _something_ he had to do, yet he couldn’t remember what it was. It was like cupping water with his bare hands. Try all you like, but in the end, it’s still going down the drain.

He felt like he’d been floating in this _nothingness_ longer than he’d been alive, though he no longer really knew what being alive meant. Not this. He knew it wasn’t this. Everything was terribly blank, not white, just blank. No colour, no light, no darkness, just nothing. It scared him when he tried to think about it, so he mostly avoided it. The only problem was, that apart from the lack of _something_ , there was _nothing_ around him. Just thoughts too fleeting to leave an impression, memories just out of reach, sensory input that wasn’t there.

It _hurt_ , somehow, even though he didn’t actually feel anything. He was just afloat. Heavy and afloat, and nothing and something, and dark and light at the same time and it was driving him around a bend that wasn’t there because there was _nothing_ there. No shaped, no curves, and definitely no bends.

He wanted to cry. He wanted an out for everything he felt but couldn’t remember, everything that kept slipping away. He wanted to _throw_ the water out of his hands, not watch it leak away. He wanted to do _something_ , anything - feel it, touch it, _think about it_ without every word disappearing the very second it arrived.

He wanted to die.

He was too tired to keep clawing at something that wasn’t there. He wanted something to be there. But if nothing came any time soon, he would cease the fight. There was only so much energy one could gather from fleeting thoughts and an empty _something_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter has some suicidal thoughts. 
> 
> I hoped you guys liked this! It's short again, but i feel like the draco POV just doesn't lend itself to anything longer. Next instalment will be more than this. 
> 
> Anyhow, comments and kudos are of course very welcome and loved and they feed my writer's soul, and if you have a character idea for a POV, then pls let me know in the comments. I can't promise anything, but maybe I'll get inspired!


	16. Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for taking so long! i was moving house and didn't have any internet last weekend....

When Harry came back to Draco’s room, the commotion had died down, and everything seemed to have gone back to the way it was. Draco’s brain activity was still there, but it wasn’t getting any stronger, and the twitching had stopped. Harry didn’t know what to think of that. He had no medical knowledge whatsoever, and he couldn’t make heads or tails out of the situation.

But Draco’s medical condition, no matter how important, wasn’t what was on his mind right now. He had heard Pansy’s rant through the glass, had heard her accusations and anger, and he knew that none of it was misplaced, and none of it was a lie. He was a worthless boyfriend.

Maybe he was a decent public hero, but to the people close to him, the ones that really mattered, he just brought pain. Every time he watched Molly’s silent tears, the cries of Mrs Malfoy or Ron trying to keep it together with all his might while Luna seemed completely lost in dark thoughts, he knew it was all his fault.

_He_ had been the reckless one. _His_ choices had put Draco Malfoy, the most amazing man he knew, in that hospital bed. _His fault_.

He waited until the nurse left the room, granting them some much-needed privacy, and then he turned to Draco.

“Hi, babe.” He briefly chuckled as he imagined what Draco’s reaction would be to that nickname. Disgusted on the surface, even though he’d have melted right underneath that mask. Clingy to a fault, but always hiding it because his father had taught him it was wrong — that was his Draco. “You’ve been here for quite a long time, you know? We miss you. Me, your mum, Ron, Hermione, Molly, Teddy, Rose. Even Kingsley showed up yesterday in the dead of night.”

Harry sighed, trying to blink the tears out of his eyes even though it was a losing battle. He reached out and took hold of Draco’s hand. “Pansy was here as well, you know? She said some things too. Some very true things. I know I’ve been hurting you, taking all these risks at work, ending up in the hospital again and again, ignoring you every time you asked me to just stay home, stay safe. But lately, you’ve stopped asking. It’s like you’ve accepted that you can lose me at any moment because you rather have this than not have me at all, and Draco, that is _so_ fucked up. I’m not worth all that. You’re fighting for your life here, and I’m so fucking scared that you won’t make it and meanwhile you just bloody well made peace with me possibly dying each time I go to work? It’s not right. You should never have to do that. I shouldn’t have made you do that.”

Tears dripped down his face onto their joined hands. It would be a beautiful moment for Draco to open his eyes, awoken by the magic of Harry’s tears, but of course, such things only happened in fairy tales. “I’ve been so selfish. If I think the general public is more important than everyone I love, then I shouldn’t get so close to my loved ones. I shouldn’t have gotten so close to you if that only brings you pain, since I insist on getting hurt all the time. It’s not fair. I should have made a choice ages ago, and I should have chosen _you_. From now on I will always choose you, Draco, but _fuck_ , you have to wake up first. Please.”

He stopped talking then because his last words had been reduced to barely audible whispers. His throat was almost completely closed off by crying. There was so much more left to say, but he couldn’t get himself to say anything anymore. So instead, he raised Draco’s hand up to his lips and kissed it. Kissed each knuckle, each nail, each fingertip, until he rested his lips against the back of Draco’s hand.

He was broken. Knackered after more than two weeks of waiting, hoping, praying to all the Gods he suddenly believed in. In fact, he was too tired to keep hurting like this, the maddening stage of pre-grief shlash pre-hope was wrenching the life out of him. He didn’t have the energy to keep on crying, but the tears still fell.

He thought that if he tried, he could get over Draco. He’d gotten over Sirius, even though that still hurt every time he thought about it. But he didn’t want to get over Draco. He didn’t want to put on a brave face for Ron and Hermione, for their kids, for Teddy. Poor Teddy, who might lose his favourite fake uncle now.

Harry told himself no lies, Draco was amazing with kids, much more than he was. Especially when they were young. After just one night of babysitting, Ron and Hermione only flooed Harry to ask if he knew where Draco was.

Harry had only caught a glimpse of how to properly raise kids when he visited The Burrow for the first time. He didn’t know any nursery rhymes, didn’t know how to change a nappy or how to lull a kid to sleep.

Draco did.

He sometimes sang Harry to sleep, when his nightmares were rough. He got the hang of nappies after just two tries, and somehow babies always fell asleep around him. Just after Draco had moved in with Harry, they’d discussed having kids. They both wanted nothing more, especially Harry when he saw how brilliant Draco would be as a dad, but Draco wanted to wait.

A child deserved settled down parents who could handle the responsibility. Draco, with his mental health struggles and history of self harm, just didn’t think he was ready yet. He’d even been scared Harry would leave him for that. Which was obviously the most ridiculous thought Draco had ever had. If anything it just made Harry more determined to love him and make a family once they were both ready.

Somehow though, along the way, Harry had lost sight of that dream. His job demanded more, Draco started making an issue about Harry’s many hospital visits, a couple of big undercover cases forced them apart for a few weeks and somehow the dream had faded from Harry’s mind.

Now, sitting at Draco’s bedside, clutching his lover’s hand, he couldn’t believe how he’d ever let that happen. How he’d managed to lose sight of everything. He’d been so focussed on… on… well, on what, actually? His job, saving the world, ticking things off on his ever growing to-do list. He wasn’t even sure. He just knew he was never going to let it happen again.

“I want to have a family with you Draco.” His voice was somewhat functional again, but only because he’d ran out of tears. “I want to take you out on dates, walk in the park, kiss you goodmorning and goodnight, _everything_. I want to quit the aurors and be a stay at home dad.”

That last one took his by surprise when the words came across his lips. He hadn’t known how true that was until he said it. But the longing for that quiet life was soon overtaken by the overwhelming worry that he’d never get to have that. That Draco wouldn’t pull through, wouldn’t wake up, wouldn’t ever be able to look Harry in the eye again, would never again hold him close and sing him to sleep and tell him everything was going to be alright.

“But you have to wake up first, darling.” Harry squeezed Draco’s hand. New tears had found their way onto his cheeks. He didn’t bother wiping them away. “Wake up, Draco. Please.”

But Draco stayed as he was, breathing in and out, with no change in sight. Maybe it was time for Harry to accept that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this update took longer and the next one isnt written yet bc my current uni period is 100% crazy insane busy. i barely have time to breathe. I am still continuing this fic, but it's going to be hard to find a moment for writing so it might take a bit longer again. Sorry for that!
> 
> And I hoped you guys enjoyed this new chapter, please conciser leaving kuddos or a comment if you did<3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading so far! This fic will hopefully be updated every sunday, and it also appears on tumblr. 
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